


"...he's gone, too."

by aveng1ng



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Captasha - Freeform, F/M, Marvel Universe, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), romanogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 05:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aveng1ng/pseuds/aveng1ng
Summary: "Or she.  I don’t know, I like to have thought of it as a boy.”My take on if the theory going around about how Natasha was pregnant through Infinity War were true.





	"...he's gone, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: As much as I love this theory and am so down with it for the sake of this ship (and James Rogers!), I wouldn't actually want this to happen in the MCU. ( My full take on the matter here: http://rxgersrxmanxff.tumblr.com/post/173494380251/unpopular-romanogers-opinion )
> 
> This is just nice to think about.
> 
> Enjoy :)

Steve fell to the ground.  Thanos was gone.  He had just watched people turn to dust right before his eyes—including his best friend.  He was confused.  Distraught.  Angry.  Miserable.

He heard a hurried footfall approaching him.  _Natasha._  She was still here.  She stopped short, witnessing Vision’s gray, lifeless body on the ground.  He looked up at her: she was panting and held a hand over her abdomen.  She looked especially dazed and defeated.  He swore he could see a flash of confusion in her eyes for a second.  It had always been somewhat difficult for him to read her, but he knew she seemed a bit _off._ He figured it might have been due to the events of the day, but he couldn’t tell for certain _._ She finally straightened up and cleared her throat: “Steve, what do we do now?”

What _could_ they do now?  He looked at everyone standing around them, unmoving.  It took every fiber of his being to rise from the ground.  He knew he had to step up as the team’s leader, now more than ever.  “Search the area and find as many survivors as possible.  Make sure that anyone who needs medical attention gets it.  Then, let’s all head back to the castle to take a head count and regroup.”

Everyone nodded and turned to follow Steve’s commands.  As Natasha started walking away, he grabbed her hand: “Nat, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.  What about you?”

“I’m okay.  Nat, I know you.  You don’t seem ‘fine.’”

“Who would seem so after everything that’s happened today?  Now really, Rogers, I’m fine,” she implored.  She abruptly withdrew her hand from his and turned to leave.  “I’ll see you back at the castle.”

_Rogers._ Natasha only ever called him that now either when she was joking with him or as means of a defense mechanism—at the times when she didn’t want to let him in.

He knew something seemed off about her.

 

~~~~~~~~~~  
 

Steve was lying down on a spacious bed in the Wakandan castle on what were most likely the softest sheets he had felt in his whole life.  The bedroom was lavishly decorated with beautifully carved wooden chairs and a table along with ornate African carvings on the wall.  The main attraction of the the room was probably the massive floor to ceiling window that spanned an entire wall, but it was covered by pale, olive green curtains adorned by golden swirls and brushstrokes galore.  Steve had drawn the curtains.  He couldn’t bear to be reminded of everything that had happened out there.  On any other day, the view of Wakanda with its beautiful structures and bright city lights and bustling night life would have been spectacular; however, now it was dark, desolate, and filled with mourning.  In all the chaos and mayhem of the past few hours, Steve found comfort in looking at something pretty plain: the ceiling.

The ceiling was painted a yellowish off-white, a buttercream hue.  It had no intricate designs or decorations compared to those of the rest of the room.  There was only a single light fixture hanging from it centered in the middle of the bedroom.  He was just staring up at it and thinking—thinking about everything that had taken place that day.  He thought about how no one knew what to do next.  No one had a Plan B.  No one knew how to move forward, at least, not yet.  He thought about how this was the second time he had lost Bucky.  Sure, he got him back once, but getting him back a second time? That seemed like asking for too much of the universe.  Everything seemed hopeless.

Steve didn’t know how long he had been staring at the creamy ceiling (Minutes? Hours?) when he was jolted from his thoughts by soft knocking on the door.  He slowly got up and walked to the door to answer it.  On his way, he kicked aside his suit that he had peeled off when he first arrived in the room, which he hadn’t bothered to move since.  Dressed in a plain black t-shirt and blue shorts, he opened the door.  He found Natasha, wearing a gray tank top and black shorts, leaning against the doorframe.  Her eyes were red and swollen, and she had a half-drinken bottle of brown liquid in hand.

“Hey,” she greeted, flashing him a soft smile.

“Hey.  Drowning your sorrows in alcohol, I see?” he replied in a lame half-hearted joke.

“You want some? I know it probably won’t have any effect on you, but it is actually pretty strong, so the burn might be nice at least,” Natasha offered, holding out the bottle.

“Sure, why not,” he accepted taking the bottle.  He took a few gulps and handed the bottle back to her.

“Going back to what you said earlier, this,” she shook the bottle, “is actually liquid courage.  Can I come in?”

Steve nodded, stepping aside, so she could enter.  Natasha took another swig from the bottle before setting it down on a small polished dark brown table next to the door.  “Steve, I need to tell you something.”  Worry flooded him instantly. He knew _that_ tone in her voice.

“Anything.”

“You may want to sit down.”

Steve sat down on the bed, furrowing his brow.  He wondered what she could possibly tell him that he didn’t already know.  By now, they knew just about everything about each other: their best-kept secrets, hopes, dreams, and fears.

 Natasha paced for a bit before she began: “I don’t know how to sugarcoat this or anything, so here it goes: I was pregnant.  With your baby.”

“What?” he asked, looking at her in disbelief.

He didn’t know how this was possible.  He knew about the Red Room and how Natasha was sterilized.  That’s why he thought there wasn’t much of a “risk” when they spent the night together in Paris while they were still on the run.  They had stumbled into a hotel room together after a long night of flirting and lingering touches.  Natasha had suggested that they take the night for Steve work on his “undercover skills” by posing as a couple.  After all, she joked, Paris was the city of romance. 

They had gotten so much closer after two years of being on the run.  They spent two years in close quarters, dancing around their feelings.  He had acknowledged his romantic feelings for her long before this, but he never dared to tell her (although he figured she already knew without him saying a word).  They were coworkers.  Partners.  That level of professionalism couldn’t be compromised.  That’s why that night in Paris felt so perfect.  They went to a quaint little restaurant for dinner and then went swing dancing (Natasha wanted to do something that felt familiar to him).  Steve felt more content than ever with her that night acting “normal” with her.  He finally got a much needed break from their incognito lifestyle, letting loose for once.  Even Natasha acted more carefree with him: he practically had to drag her away from the dancefloor when the nightclub was almost closing and they were its last patrons.   Everything just seemed _so perfect._ So, when they entered the hotel room, he kissed her.  She kissed him back.  And one thing led to another.

“What do you mean you _were_ pregnant?”

“Well, the thing is, I wasn’t even sure if I was in the first place, and I honestly didn’t know how it could’ve happened, but I guess I was.  I felt the symptoms.  A few days after Paris, I bought a couple of pregnancy tests.  They were both positive.  I didn’t want to believe it until I had a real medical exam, but it’s not like I could’ve waltzed into a hospital, being a wanted fugitive and all.  So, I kept the suspicion to myself.  Then, when everyone started turning into dust, I got my answer.  I really don’t know how to explain it, but I just felt a sort of _emptiness,_ and I just knew.”

Steve remained silent for a while.  This news, on top of everything else, was just a lot to process.  “Nat, why didn’t you tell me, even if you didn’t know for sure? You know you can always tell me anything.”

“I just didn’t want to worry you, that’s all.  Especially if there wasn’t even anything there to worry about.  Plus, I honestly thought I was going to die out there today, up against monsters and aliens, as I don’t really have any superhuman capabilities.  I’m sorry.  I know I should’ve told you,” she apologized, her voice breaking.  A tear rolled down her cheek.

He stood up and swiped the tear away with his thumb before wrapping his arms around her: “Hey, it’s okay.”  God, what she must be going through right now.

“I’m really sorry, Steve,” she mumbled into his chest.  Natasha looked up at him glassy-eyed.  He felt tears begin to well up in his own eyes.  “We’ve lost so many today, and now he’s gone, too.  Or she.  I don’t know, I like to have thought of it as a boy.”

After a few more moments of just holding each other, Steve suggested they go to bed.  He lied down first, and she followed, laying her head on his chest.  He embraced her once more and began stroking her hair.  “I would’ve let you name him, you know,” Natasha commented, sniffling.

“James.  I would’ve chosen James.  After Bucky.”

“That’s nice.”

“I thought you would’ve wanted a girl.”

 “Nah, I’d much rather see a mini-you running around in the world,” she quipped.

Steve smiled and kissed the top of her head: “Say we did end up having him and this whole mess we’re in right now didn’t exist.  What would we do? Retire and live on a farm? Fresh air for the kid?”

“I think a quiet little suburbia would be just fine,” she scoffed.  “And retire? Does being a superhero _ever_ really stop?”

Steve laughed and held her even tighter.  They fought off sleep for as long as they could, talking about all the possibilities of a life of normality that they could only ever dream of.


End file.
